# Chapter 17

Michael looked at the void in the refrigerator, counting the food that is left there. He had not enough to fill it up for the entire month. He thought that he made a mistake. There is no way that the fart-king will produce anything remotely decent.

There was one possible way out of this situation. To ask the father for some of his food. It was not considered right to borrow at those times. Not like this. This kind of borrowing was done by homeless people in the ancient times, Michael thought. He is not a homeless man. And those are not ancient times. He needs to suffer for his own mistakes. And father should not even find out about it.

Michael sat in his room, eating his own fingernails, being constantly distracted by the sounds of his stomach. He sipped from a water bottle, trying to drink as little as possible and waited. Soon the presentation, the ad, will be shown.

Michael had told to the fart-king about his real name. It was a privacy risk. But he wanted people to know him, as the person who sells happiness. He was doubting that the idea even worth anything. It was too simple to come up with this kind of thing on your own. On the other hand, his father didn't know it. Maybe there will be people who will be just like his father. But, what to do if they already know about it? Michael thought that with whoever shows up, he needs to figure out in a smart way, without revealing what he knows, whether the other person already knows it. Maybe it will give him more techniques to sell. He thought about how to do it. And then...

The Fart-King went live. His mega-net-site suddenly brought up in joy and lavishness. Animations of smoke in different, light colors filled the room. The sounds of farts. This was very embarrassing for Michael. But on the other hand, he enjoyed the stupidity of it all.

"Farty-farts Fart-King's here with another installment of the fart-land fart-joy." - came the voice of the blond man. Suddenly the smoke cleared up and the man was present. Standing in Michael's room. This live-feed was watched by a large group of people at the same time. There was no number of exact people watching. But the estimation algorithm on the server side ( that gave a popularity rating ) gave the show four stars. Meaning about two million people, roughly, are enjoying this nonsense right this moment. Seeing the four stars made Michael think that his forced diet is not that big of a deal after all.

Fart-King continued - "Joy? Oh joy. Joy of a nice double-flip-fart in a park, high in the structures of our wonder-city-planet. Joy of farting directly into people's noses. You say illegal. I say fart-eagle." - and animation of an eagle came through the room. The eagle had smoke coming out of his rear area - "But what if there is no joy?" - the Fart King started pretending to be sad - "What if your fart-eagles were misinterpreted by the police and during arguing you could not perform a nice double-flip-fart to calm yourself down?"

Michael was laughing hysterically. Fart King continued - "What if you could not even do a simple 'silent but deadly' without the other people frowning at you? Oh those other people. They do not understand the art of the fart." - sad music started playing and the Fart King became serious - "Sometimes though, simple life matters may hit you as well. Not everything in life is a fart." - Michael cringed and felt embarrassed. Even at serious moments this guy made his fart-puns. 

Fart-King was looking directly into Michael's eyes. It was a part of the show. He said - "Depression could hit you and you will never feel good again." - the light faded away. Silence.

"One day I walked through the structures. Down from the life itself. I was crushed. I thought that it was it. A time to crush my own self. I wanted to climb the railing and jump off. Yes. I was that depressed. I wanted to kill myself. I imagined myself holding a skull and saying out loud, so every soul could hear - 'To be or not to be?'. I did. I yelled. I asked myself the question. Nobody understood. Nobody seemed to know any of Hamlet. But one. It was a kid. He said - 'To die, to sleep? To sleep that means to dream.'. I paused. I thought - 'For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?'. He told me ... what ... I need to do. 'To be!' was the answer. He talked to me and saved me by his talking."

Another dramatic pause. The scene brightened up.

"Just the most farting coincidence I met the kid once more. He didn't want a fart lesson. Quite frankly I would give him one for free. He saved my life after all. But I found that the kid is actually quite successful. Mr. Herald he is now. Michael Herald. A name in helping people with depression. And I do suggest you go talk to him if you have a farting depression and double-flip-fart doesn't fart you out of it." - here it was. The ad. Michael felt good. He was successfully advertised. Well. Successfully to an extend that it was not too obvious. And some two million people now heard his name.

Fart-King continued talking about all kinds of other things. And fart exercises. Trying to make it all flow between one thing to another in such a perfect way that no algorithm would pick up on various advertisement that were sprinkled through the show. Michael thought that it was indeed money well spend. Though nobody called him yet.

He felt the hunger again. Sipped some more of the water and went to the refrigerator. It was not empty. But it didn't look to him like the kind of food one eats all month long. He took a leaf of lettuce and bit on it without preparation. He thought that it's too early to eat a full meal. He will eat to no more than one full meal per day for the whole month. But lettuce he had plenty. He can snack on that meanwhile. Meanwhile he is waiting for the calls.
